October Aftermath: Crystal Clear

[lifeaftr_mods]

Who: All!
What: You're back, for better or worse. Time to recover.
When: Backdated to the 24th and beyond.
Where: The Monkey Compound, Islets, etc.
Warnings: Mark as you go.


No matter where you are on the morning of the 24th, things will very abruptly go dark.

Unless you're dead. In which case, things are already dark. And you do not see this.

For the rest of you, however, the Storyteller appears only briefly. Gone is their seemingly indifferent nature; as the rabbit hops too and throe, the pages of their tome flick back and forth in an erratic pattern, stopping on a blank page for only a moment, before continuing on. Despite the pages always turning in the one direction, there seems to be no end to them, not at all.

"I'll keep this brief, for the moment. All of you have now been removed from the caverns below," A haggard sigh- and a reluctant addition. "Those of you still alive.

"Your efforts have allowed me access to what lies below. I have sealed off the entrances- from now, the responsibility of cleaning up the mess is upon me."

And that appears to be it. Darkness returns, along with the sensation of lying upon the sand. Birds call out from the jungle, joining the rhythmic shift of the waves. No matter where you were on the island; underground, or above, you awaken upon the shoreline near the Storyteller's temple, along with the rest of the survivors.



"For what it is worth, I am truly sorry."

---

[[If you have yet to do so, make sure you confirm your character's death here!]]

Comments

[catpiper]

[They get it. Even without words, they understand. Even without sharing her feelings, they recognize what she's saying and that's special. That's uniquely Drifter. A gift that's all their own.

And that little thank you in the dirt is enough to bring a genuine smile to her face. Without any of the worry that was apparent moments ago. They always say it to her, even when she's not the one they need to thank. Even when it's flowers and instruction booklets and sticks they should turn to, they look at her first and that's-

Nice. It's really nice.

It's too much to write and in a voice barely above a whisper, she says-]

Thank you for coming back.

[hyperlit]

[She thanks them.]

[Why? What have they done worth thanking? They came back, but that was not even their intention, nor was it something they'd started to do. It was something they'd failed at, on every possible level it was to fail, and still - still - she thanks them for it.]

[What have they done to merit the presence of someone so earnest and patient and loving?]

[What have they done to continuously earn this?]

[And they have...yes. It survived the return journey. A careful threading of something out from their pocket - a ring of dried flowers, gingerly extricated and then cautiously dropped atop her head. Not as pretty as they were when they were first strung together, but something they'd kept safe nonetheless.]

[catpiper]

[This is the reason they were able to survive. This is why they're out of the caves and holding her hand.

Because of the dried flowers that adorn her head. They're hurt, but alive and she can't help to think these blooms had a part in that. If Drifter hadn't come to the temple entrance that day, if they hadn't sat together and weaved pretty flowers together-would they still be here?

Plenty of others made it through the caverns without crowns in their pocket and Taako, who received flowers of his own many weeks before, didn't. And yet, she thinks they still might. Maybe there's a special power in the flowers that bloom in the temple that make them different. Maybe the presence of a kind god and their gratitude towards the flowers that day had something to do with their life now.

She doesn't know for sure, but it's a thought that will stay with her.

Unwilling to touch the crown, she tilts her head back to get it to move further down her head. They might break under her fingers, no matter how gentle she tries to be, and that wouldn't be a proper send off for such a good luck charm.]

And to the flowers too. Thank you.

[For saving them.]

Does Drifter want to sleep?

[She can guard!!]

[hyperlit]

[They have not thanked the flowers. They hope that the flowers can still accept their unspoken gratitude, lacking the means to discuss it audibly. They think that Ren's thanks, for now, will suffice. Is it absurd to talk to flowers as though they might hear?]

[Perhaps it is. For now, it feels less like indulgence, and more like relief.]

[They do, in fact, want to sleep. Even if they've slept for some time, for the days in which they slept without the nightmares that would typically haunt their dreams and bleed the tendrils of pink-stained black into their subconscious, it does not feel much like sleep at all. They are meant to be stronger than this, braver than this, more resilient than this, and yet...]

[And yet, the temptation remains.]

[Their head lowers finally in a reluctant nod.]

[Yes.]

[They start to sink to the ground into a horizontal curl, apparently needing no further preparation than Ren's permission.]

[catpiper]

[She has to believe they'll wake up. They need rest, but that age old fear of hers remains as she watches them lay down. The same fear she gets watching anyone sleep-it lingers no matter how she tries to talk herself through it.

But she doesn't let it show and shoves it underneath the 900 other immediate concerns she has. They'll wake up. If she watches over them and remembers to put flowers in their pockets, they'll be okay. Just like last time.

She lets go of their hand to adjust the red cloak around their body as best she can and drops her lumpy bag by the back of their head. Enjoy that pillow. It's the best she's got. And like that, if they let her, she'll take their hand again and wait for them.

Like always.

She won't leave their side. ]